


Nettles

by Evie_adams273



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Characters aging, English class, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Inspired by Poetry, One Shot, and hot chocolate, features Astoria's death, featuring Drastoria, first writing of the decade, first writing of the year, from Draco's perspective, hope it's not too sad, i started this earlier, minor injury, nettles by vernon scannell, sorry bout that, they all have a sweet tooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evie_adams273/pseuds/Evie_adams273
Summary: Scorpius had a habit of getting hurt when he plays, which is only natural for a child, but Draco begins to realise things as it happens.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Astoria Malfoy & Scorpius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Scorpius Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Nettles

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: mention of death and minor injury

_My son aged three fell in the nettle bed._

_'Bed' seemed a curious name for those green spears,_

_That regiment of spite behind the shed:_

_It was no place for rest. With sobs and tears_

_The boy came seeking comfort and I saw_

_White blisters beaded on his tender skin._

* * *

**_Three_ **

When Draco heard his son’s cries echoing through the hallways of their home, he immediately stopped what he was doing and ran through to the front door. Scorpius was sat on the floor, crying, and Astoria seemed about to stand up and go to find something. Draco caught her eye at the same time as spotting the bleeding cut on Scorpius’ knee, and he nodded, hurrying back through to the kitchen to find the first aid kit and his wand.

He never carried his wand with him anymore. He made a point of not doing so. At first, it had been difficult, and he’d felt more vulnerable than he was ever comfortable with, but now, on several occasions, he had come close to forgetting his wand as he left the house.

Leaving their wands alone had been Astoria’s idea when they had first moved in together. They had both done things they regretted. They had both done things they needed to move on from. Leaving their wands alone for unnecessary things had been a symbolic step of trying to continue, and, for Astoria, it had stuck after she had made it most of the way to recovery. Draco hadn’t yet forgiven himself. It had been eleven years, but he couldn’t forgiven himself.

He shook the thoughts as they started to swell, grabbing his wand and a wad of kitchen roll. Having seen the cut, he knew it didn’t warrant more than that. Scorpius had fallen in the garden.

The logic was the only way that Draco managed to control his fear of getting parenting wrong. He’d said to Astoria when she had been pregnant, and he still had the fear, that he was afraid of being a bad parent, of not being there for his child. She had assured him then, and she still assured him now, that he was a good parent, that he would be. The logical, step-by-step method that Draco used in situations like this helped to stop him panicking so that he could help.

He didn’t like to admit how much the sound of a child crying, of his child crying, reached him and scared him.

Something about his upbringing, about the strictness of it all, about always hiding his emotions, had stuck. And he didn’t know what to do with it. He tried to be open and honest, but it was difficult.

He hurried back through to the hallway, kneeling down next to Scorpius and taking his hand. He glanced at Astoria and she nodded, so he started to wipe away some of the drying blood. The cut had stopped bleeding and was now starting to scab over, and Draco was careful not to touch the wound itself too much. He could heal that with a wave of his wand. He just needed to get the dirt away first.

Scorpius kept whimpering in pain and Astoria began to whisper softly to him, promising him that it would be okay and that it wouldn’t hurt for much longer. Scorpius kept mumbling, between sobs, that he was very sorry that he’d done this and gotten hurt. Astoria kept assuring him that it was okay, and that she knew he would be more careful next time.

Once Draco had finished mopping up the blood, he picked up his wand and murmured a healing spell. Scorpius visibly relaxed as the wound closed up properly and the scab disappeared. 

“I think that might be enough outdoor adventuring for one day,” Draco smiled at them both. “Hot chocolate?”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up.

**_Seven_ **

“There’s a big patch of spiky plants!” Scorpius yelped as he came running through the door.

While Draco was immensely grateful that he was running and yelling, because it meant that he was still okay, he grimaced at the sight of multiple scratches running down his arms. He hurried over, pulling out a tissue and starting to wipe away some of the dirt.

“Where have you been?” he sighed. 

“I went to try and find some blackberries for mum,” Scorpius looked down sheepishly. “I thought I could reach them but I slipped and landed in – there were loads of spiky plants underneath.”

“Those are the blackberry plants, you rascal,” Draco shook his head, smiling. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Where’s mum?”

“In the kitchen. She’s feeling a bit better.”

Scorpius took off almost immediately, apparently unfazed by the scratches, and Draco followed him, unable not to smile endearingly at his son. Astoria looked up as Scorpius ran into the kitchen, slowing down a little bit as she realised she was holding the tea that Draco had nicknamed ‘headache tea’. He knew it was unimaginative. Scorpius had told him it was fine.

Astoria raised her eyebrows as she saw the state of her son and Draco smiled apologetically. Scorpius grabbed a few sheets of kitchen roll, but he didn’t seem like he was in any pain, so neither Draco nor Astoria attempted to heal him immediately.

Draco turned on the kettle before pulling two mugs out of the cupboard and putting a tea bag in one and hot chocolate in the other. Once or twice, he glanced over his shoulder to see Astoria dealing with Scorpius’ injuries, one by one. He was still smiling.

It shocked Draco, almost every day, how utterly resilient his son was. How much he made of every single day, whatever the weather, whatever happened. While Draco had been reluctant to let him go the first few times, he was now in the habit of, if Astoria had to go into St. Mungo’s on short notice, he would go back and get some books to read to her. Sometimes he’d bring board games.

Draco often wondered how he had ended up being so lucky. He had built a life with the two people he loved most in the world, away from prying eyes and away from the pressure of the rest of humanity. Yes, there were struggles, and yes, there were fears. But he had spent his teen years believing that he would either be dead or working for Voldemort. And there was no way this could be anything less than infinitely better.

**_Eleven_ **

Draco looked up as Scorpius appeared in the doorway, tears in his eyes. Scorpius looked down at the floor, starting to retreat, but Draco didn’t miss that he was nursing his hand. He planted a quick kiss on his sleeping wife’s cheek, and then hurried out.

Scorpius already appeared to be long gone, and Draco hurried along to his room, summoning a bit of kitchen towel. He knocked, straining to hear an answer. None came. He knocked again, and this time, pushed the door open slowly. Scorpius was sat on his bed, facing the wall as his shoulders shook almost uncontrollably.

He looked up sharply as Draco said his name, but he didn’t stand. Draco walked to him, offering him the kitchen roll. Scorpius took it silently, not meeting his gaze.

Draco sat down on the floor a foot away, or so, waiting to make sure he was okay. From what he could see, Scorpius’ hand was covered in little white spots surrounded by angry red patches of skin. They looked a little like nettle stings, though Draco couldn’t recall having any nettles in the garden.

“Sorry,” Scorpius mumbled.

“What do you need to be sorry for?” Draco frowned, moving a little closer.

“I interrupted your time with mum.”

“She was asleep. And anyway, you’re my little boy. You’re just as important to me as she is.”

Scorpius nodded, though Draco could see a hint of disbelief still written on his face. He wanted to say something. He wanted to make Scorpius feel better. But he didn’t know how to. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know how to start. He could offer to heal Scorpius’ hand, but that wouldn’t heal the rest of the problems that Draco could see growing. The ones about Astoria. The ones about school. The ones about not being able to talk.

And he had no idea how to fix any of it.

He needed to, he knew he needed to learn to fix it. Even if Astoria was good at helping Scorpius, Draco couldn’t ignore the fact that her time was temporary, and far closer to its end than its beginning.

He blinked back a tear.

“Do you want to come through?” he asked quietly.

Scorpius nodded, standing up and walking while Draco followed. He was still holding his hand a little nervously, as if it hurt, but Draco didn’t want to be overbearing. It was a quiet day. Scorpius needed a quiet day. So they would take it slowly. If Astoria got up later on, they could go out into the garden for a little bit. In the meantime, they could take it slow.

**_Thirteen_ **

Draco sat alone in the front room, rocking back and forth slightly. It didn’t feel real. None of it had ever felt real. Sitting with Astoria as her breathing had faded, and then stopped. Watching Scorpius leave the room and hearing his sobs. Lying awake that night as he tried to contemplate anything.

He hadn’t slept since she had passed.

The morning after, what had felt like hundreds of family members had turned up, all with the intent of helping. Draco had forced them out again within two hours. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take any of it. He just needed time. He told himself that. He needed time to process and try and keep going.

The funeral itself wasn’t a problem. Astoria had planned her own funeral. It was all arranged and going ahead on whatever date had been set. The people running the service had been the only people Draco had let in. Because they hadn’t bothered him. Because they’d just let him sit and think and try and work out where to go.

He had barely seen Scorpius. Scorpius had spent a lot of time alone, mainly in his room. However, Draco had heard the front door click about an hour ago, and he had looked out the window to see Scorpius walking down the garden. Draco hadn’t stopped him. If Scorpius needed that, he couldn’t stop him.

He needed to talk to Scorpius. He needed to try and communicate with his son now that their link was gone. Tonight. He would do it tonight. And he would sleep.

He could almost hear Astoria’s laugh, reminding him of the things he needed to do, reminding him to do them because she loved him and Scorpius loved him and they needed each other. They did need each other. They had always needed each other. And Draco would be there for his son.

He stood up, forcing air into his lungs as he walked forward slowly. He couldn’t move any faster. He didn’t have the strength to. But maybe going outside would help him.

However, before he made it to the front hall, he heard the door clicked and he watched Scorpius enter and walk upstairs. He looked like he was limping and Draco wanted to say something, wanted to do something. But he froze. All he could do was watch his son limp across the hall and up the stairs, all while trying to hide the limp.

It was only later when he found the bloodied tissues in the bin.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in English class earlier, and I read the beginning of a poem. And this happened. God knows why.  
> Shoutout to the flashmob gang. You guys rock and holy crap the end of last week was amazing.  
> Thanks for reading  
> Kudos and comments much appreciated  
> Twitter: @evieadams273


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